


really hate being two, not one

by takumicore



Category: JO1 (Japan Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Living Together, M/M, Near Future, a loose continuation to a previous fic, and honestly that's all you need to know, ao3 user takumicore being self-indulgent: a series, kind of?, no beta in this household we alpha like men, wrote this in two sittings after marathoning say yes to the dress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25600300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takumicore/pseuds/takumicore
Summary: the older takes the towel around shion’s neck and gently rubs his wet hair, chuckling when shion closes his eyes and leans in. “god, you’re like a dog.”“a husky?”syoya scoffs. “more like a chihuahua.”
Relationships: Kimata Syoya/Tsurubo Shion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29





	really hate being two, not one

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [talk 'bout you, talk 'bout muse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25453966) by [takumicore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/takumicore/pseuds/takumicore). 



> for a friend, for indulging my tsurukima antics 💕

shion all but trips over the cluster of shoes in their genkan, almost knocking over their umbrella stand with a bag full of groceries. he was meant to pop out to the corner store to get a few ingredients they were missing for dinner, except on his way back the sky decided to open up, and now he’s _drenched_ , pulling off a worn grey hoodie that’s clinging to him like second skin.

“i’m home!” he calls out, throwing the soaked hoodie and socks into a laundry basket, and grabbing a towel from the bathroom on his way to the kitchen.

they’ve only moved here a few weeks ago, so the apartment is still relatively empty sans some basic furniture and stacked boxes of unpacked belongings, but it’s a hell of an upgrade from the tiny flat they’ve lived in while syoya was studying. for one, it actually has a _bedroom_ separated off with sliding doors, a balcony big enough to house their (syoya’s) ever-growing collection of cacti and succulents, and a kitchen island. after having to prepare food for years on the tiny gap between the stove and the sink, additional counter space feels like a _blessing_.

if seventeen-year-old him heard shion getting excited about a _kitchen island_ , he’d call current him a ‘fucking boomer’, probably.

“welcome back- oh, is it raining?” syoya’s settled at their coffee table, which is covered with fashion sketches and fabric swatches. shion’s laptop is perched precariously near the edge of the table; a temporary replacement for syoya’s while it’s in repair (a long story involving alcohol and _we can totally use a laptop as a cutting board, keigo-kun_ ), though shion won’t be surprised if _his_ lands at a repair service store soon, too.

“it’s pouring,” shion replies, dropping the grocery bag onto the island and shaking his hair to get the excess water out, ignoring syoya’s indignant squawk of _not on my sketches, jerk!_ “could feel my shoes squelching on my way back.”

syoya scrunches his nose, dramatically wiping some stray droplets of water from the coffee table with his sleeve. “ew. dry off properly, i don’t need you sick _again_.”

“and if i don’t?” he teases, an obvious bait as he sets aside the vegetables to wash later and pulls the tofu press out of the cupboard. it’s not that shion necessarily _wants_ to be sick again, the bout of pneumonia he had two months ago kicked his ass enough, but it’s always fun to banter with his boyfriend like this.

perhaps some of it is a leftover habit from their high school days, where syoya would chide him after every fight he (willingly or otherwise) got into, but still clean the injuries, bandage the wounds, kiss the bruises better. he’d always felt guilty and selfish for putting syoya through all that stress, wondering which busted lip or black eye would make the older finally give up; but syoya wades through all of shion’s bullshit, saying he knew what he was getting into, and he knew change was _hard_.

those days are long gone, left behind like their hometown as they stepped onto a train to tokyo, but shion still finds an odd sense of comfort in… how to call it. being taken care of? he’s always been fiercely independent and guarded, so knowing he _can_ be _vulnerable_ in front of syoya, even when it comes to tiny things like knotting a tie or dusting an eyelash off his face is… neat. nice. makes him all warm and mushy.

(he’s never been too good at expressing feelings.)

syoya catches on and clicks his tongue with fond exasperation, waving him over. “fine, get over here.” he doesn’t need to be told twice, leaving the tofu in the press to drain before sliding besides syoya next to the coffee table. the older takes the towel around shion’s neck and gently rubs his wet hair, chuckling when shion closes his eyes and leans in. “god, you’re like a dog.”

“a husky?”

syoya scoffs. “more like a chihuahua.”

shion opens his mouth to retort back, but is cut off with a _ping!_ from his laptop. they both turn to look at the screen; it’s an email notification, popping up in the bottom right corner.

“did you order something? _shipment confirmation for ri_ …”

shion feels his blood run cold. “ _shit_ -“

on impulse, he slams the laptop shut, perhaps with too much strength, and the two of them go so silent shion’s reasonably sure syoya could hear his heart _thudding_ against his ribs.

minutes tick away, if the incessant clock hanging over their couch is anything to go by, before syoya finally speaks, sounding just as stunned as shion feels. “so… you ordered-“

“no,”

“but-“

“ _no_ ,” shion all but whines, feeling his face burn up in embarrassment. god, he was so _sure_ he set his account so any emails from the jeweller’s would be auto-marked as read, but no, the world is laughing in the face of his lacklustre computer hacking skills and his attempts to _propose_. “the tofu should have drained, i’ll go make dinner,” he sputters and gets up to shuffle back into their kitchen. not that it helps much, their living space is open-plan and shion has nowhere to hide behind the counters, but he can at least – _pretend_ this didn’t just happen.

thankfully, syoya seems to take the hint and turns back to putting together outfit ideas for a photoshoot styling gig in a few days, though shion can see him struggle to hold back a grin. it’s a relief, in a sense – despite them dating for, what, 7 years now?, there was still a tiny voice in the back of his head planting seeds of doubt, but syoya doesn’t look… opposed. to say the very least. still, he wanted this to be a _surprise_ , a cheesy and romantic gesture that he’s been plotting for a few months now, even secretly asking some of syoya’s colleagues for advice on what ring would be appropriate, yet the whole thing disappears like a bubble because of a stray _email_.

he’s half-way through chopping vegetables when he hears a dull _thunk_ and looks over to see syoya with his head on the coffee table, shoulders shaking, and for a moment shion’s terrified he’s crying until he hears _giggles_.

“wh-why are you laughing?” it’s a rhetorical question – shion is fairly sure he knows the exact reason – and it only makes syoya crack up further, leaning back against their couch and hiding his face behind his hands.

“cause i- you-“ he pauses to take a breath, to compose himself, before continuing. “cause y- _pfft_ ,”

“oh my god, syo, stop,” shion groans, although the embarrassment is quickly giving way to fondness, and he’s hit with the sheer _absurdity_ of this whole fiasco. the cat’s out of the bag, and there’s nothing he can really do about it, right?

syoya manages to contain his giggling by the time shion starts frying the tofu, cheeks red and eyes twinkling, and he looks so, so _pretty_ shion has to exercise all of his will not to turn off the heat and pop the question right then and there. “can i see them?”

“what- _no_ , of course not!”

the proposal itself might have been exposed, but he wants to maintain a _modicum_ of surprise, for hell’s sake.

“oh god, it’s for real,” syoya says in disbelief, more to himself than anything, grin peaking out from behind his hands, “i can’t wait to say yes.”

shion flings a piece of tofu at him in response (and his heart soars along with it).

**Author's Note:**

> not pictured: shion accidentally getting teriyaki sauce on the couch and cushions, on god, shion, the _cushions_
> 
> title inspired by [us by punchnello and meenoi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eCVTPWCfuyA) which was playing on shuffle when this idea popped in my head
> 
> also shout out to say yes to the dress and wholesome reddit threads, i love living vicariously through other people's successful relationships, it's good for the soul


End file.
